


Alaska

by bigcatsandkatanas



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigcatsandkatanas/pseuds/bigcatsandkatanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt isn't shot in the side but is grazed by a bullet on his head. When he goes unconscious he eventually awakens to a new life with an old partner on the way to Los Angeles. Time is ticking, Walt tries to accept the inevitable. In his final days he leads a quiet life, a prisoner to his own sins, Jesse not far behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alaska

**Author's Note:**

> I looked over this several times but I might have missed any typos so sorry about that. Hope you enjoy this fic.

“We’ve got to go. Walt? Walt are you there,” the sirens could be heard echoing from the distance of the lab where Walt had weakly gone to. 

Jumping up in surprise, blood dripped down his temple to his cheek from the bullet graze at the side of his head. “I’ve been shot,” Walt mutters coldly in a state of shock. “Why didn’t you?”

“Damnit that doesn’t matter—doesn’t matter anymore,” Jesse reached out for him and pulled him by the shoulder. 

“Just leave me,” Walt attempted to pull away but lost his ground and fell.  Frantically Jesse tried to pull him up, attempting to hold back tears from the feel of touching him, touching this man who brought him so much pain. Just the sight of him made his blood boil, the hairs at the back of his neck stood up from absolute anger but it was just a cocktail of emotions. Seeing Walt like this, seeing him in this state, he just couldn’t do it, he couldn’t leave him. 

“We are going,” they found themselves playing tug of war now but Walt was smart enough to know he would be easily defeated so he followed along in his direction.

“I am satisfied with this. I’m quite happy going out like this. I’ll find a gun and I-I wouldn’t put it down and th-they will shoot me. You couldn’t shoot me, but they would,” he rambled like a mad man as he was shoved in the car.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” Jesse slammed his hands against the passenger window after he slammed the door closed, startling Walt out of his episode.  “Shut the fuck up and stay in the god damned car you piece of shit.”

It wasn’t forgiveness that made him save the man, Jesse wasn’t saintly enough to think he was capable of going that far, but it was because he wanted to make a decision for himself, to break the never ending cycle.  He was the one running the show now, he was out of that god forsaken hellhole and he was going to break through that fence and he was going to take control of the steering wheel.  Walt began to slump down into his seat muttering things, things about Holly, about Skyler.  There was only one way in and one way out but so many different little roads that he could go down, any one of them he could run into the cops and get caught. Willing to take the risk, he took one less known, more bumpy and dangerous and he hid in the darkness, turning off the headlights. Right on time he saw the herd of police drive by, sirens lighting up the night. 

Laughing to himself when it passed, Jesse lost it, tears in his eyes.  He shouted and screamed because it was all over, he escaped it intact, the bruises on his skin, the scars, he’d have to live with them.  But when the episode passed, the relief faded when he saw a piece of his past was still in there with him, breathing up his air.  At least Walt was out cold.  

Waking up to a blinding headache, Walt pushed himself up, the car running but it was put in park.  The air conditioner was blowing warm air in his face, parching his nostrils.  There was pressure in his head, dried blood caked in his hair and a piece of white cloth wrapped around his head.  Walt pat at the wound and winced in pain.  Where on earth was he? It must have been a gas station, he looked around to see it was daylight. Desert stretching on and on the horizon but it wasn’t the desert he was accustomed to, it must have been California. Route 66? Did Jesse take a road that obvious?

When Jesse got into the car with a big bag full of cornnuts and soda, he narrowed his eyes upon seeing Walt. The older man cowered a bit underneath his gaze, the weight of all the wrongs he did to him were overwhelming.  Being startled by the mercy Jesse was capable of was just a reminder of how twisted and dark Walt was. Thinking Jesse would even take joy in killing him was naïve. That wasn’t Jesse. That wasn’t him at all. 

In complete silence they drove on and on, no music, the air thick with unsaid words.  No doubt that Jesse was holding back, his eyes stony but soft, tension in his mouth. 

Walt was the first one to speak, cursing when he removed the cloth from his wound, peeling the blister off. At the rest stop Walt washed it off, but once the blood was rinsed it didn’t look so bad. Behind him he saw Jesse emerging from the hall lit up by the fading sunlight outside. He pissed in one of the filthy urinals and washed his hands, nervously trying to get at the dirt underneath his fingernails. They just couldn’t get clean enough.  He whimpered and Walt turned to him in concern, it was like Jesse’s hands were malfunctioning.  They shook as if he had no control of them, like they didn’t want follow his orders to just stay still.  Finally he got a hold of himself and held the sides of the sink, then raised his eyes, his glare scaring Walt into going back to tending his own wound.

“We should find a room,” Walt’s voice trembled and sounded sore.  “A bed. A shower.”

“There’s no we,” spat Jesse.

“Fine. I’m ok with that,” calmly spoke Walt, his eyes darting about in confusion, “If I’m here…am I the prison—“

“The door is right there. You can go. I don’t care.”

“Th-then why did you—“

“To prove to you that I’m not _like_ you.” Bless Mike, Mike would have shot Walt in the face but Jesse wasn’t him either. He wasn’t like any of those people, he swore from that point on he wouldn’t be.  Half-measures, whole-measures, whatever, the terms lost their meaning entirely. It was Mike’s mantra but Mike was gone, maybe he got what was coming to him but it shouldn’t have been from Walt. 

From that point on Walt kept on making suggestions, Jesse would snap at him, and then do whatever he said.  They were smart enough ideas but Jesse loved to relish in the fact that he had a say in it, that he could easily say no.  Motel after motel they traveled until Jesse decided they would stay in Los Angeles. 

“Why here? What about Alaska,” Walt asked upon seeing the small apartment Jesse rented.  The windows dusty, the carpets torn, the tiles broken, holes in the wall. 

“I was underground for so long. I want to see the sun. I want to see it as often as possible,” he choked out offering Walt more than he had the entire time.

“It’s only a matter of time before your name is in the papers. And you’re here hiding in one of the most densely populated cities in America.”

“I don’t care,” said Jesse matter-of-factly dropping his baggage on the floor. 

Standing in the shower Jesse wiped off the dirt and grime from cleaning the place. It wasn’t so big, it had one room, a bathroom and was fully furnished which was more than enough for the meantime. Right before getting to his new place, Jesse managed to get a mattress someone was dumping around the corner for Walt.  It’s better than the floor, he thought. Lately Jesse had to keep reminding Walt he wasn’t a prisoner but he kept acting like one, prisoners sleep on floors, Walt had a choice too. 

Grabbing a package full of razors from the toilet tank, he opened it up with wet hands and fished for a razor.  For a while he stayed still staring at it.  He wasn’t allowed razors with Todd and the others but he often dreamed of them, he’d think of using them for a reason other than their intended use.  Pushing that sad thought aside he began to shave his face, the chunks of light brown hair falling down the drain.  Tonight he couldn’t look in the mirror, this would have to do.  Running his hand over his face, he was done, it felt smooth.  From other room he could hear Walt hacking away, gagging and choking, blood probably on the palm of his hand.  Jesse dropped his head, the water soaking his hair that was now at shoulder length.  It needed to be cut but he couldn’t find the will to go outside beyond corner stores, he just hated being around people and having to look them straight in the eye and pretend to be an ordinary fully functioning citizen. 

Then again…

Maybe he’d go buy a couple of beers since he took a shower anyway. 

“Can you drink,” asked Walt, pulling off the faded UCLA beanie Jesse got him from a thrift store on the way back home.  “It ah—it fits nicely.”

“Yeah, well why not, man,” Jesse popped the cap off his beer and took a swig of it, “And yeah I figured… cause you ah-um always complained about the head cold you’d get. Always with those fucking chills, I just wanted you to shut up about them.”

“It’s been colder hasn’t it,” Walt looked at him with the eyes of an uncertain child.  “The damn weather right,” his voice grew shaky.

“Mmm,” Jesse’s eyes started to water a little.

He rationalized that maybe Walt felt so cold just cause he was older, not because he was dying, it couldn’t be that.  Jesse couldn’t begin to stomach it.

“Yeah it has been pretty cold, huh,” he played along for his own sake and Walt’s.

Each night that they shared together carried an uncertainty if one day would be like the next or the inevitable would catch up to them. For the most part they had a routine.  Walt would wake up first, make the coffee, make the eggs and then watch some tv while Jesse would take a shower.  Every time he’d come up in the news he’d breathe out a sigh of relief Jesse’s name wasn’t being mentioned in connection to him.  They were living on borrowed time. 

Gradually they started to get closer and closer.  Jesse’s eyes didn’t carry that hatred, but maybe Walt missed them looking at him that way. He’d prefer anything to the hopeless, pitiful stares he had been receiving, Jesse may have not thought he was that obvious but he was. Oh he was.

One day Walt was watching the news and Jesse came out right when they were talking about Heisenberg  Scrambling to change the channel, Walt lost the grip of the remote and dropped it, the back of it falling off and the batteries scattering across the floor.  Jesse walked up next to him and picked them up, knowing that Walt didn’t have much strength to be bending and crouching.  He held onto his towel and then picked up his gaze when he heard the newswoman talking about Walt. 

“They haven’t mentioned you yet,” Walt muttered.  Putting the remote back together, Jesse sighed.  He placed the remote in Walt’s hand and squeezed his shoulder.  “God forbid someone sees me and t-tells the authorities,” his mouth went dry as he spoke but Jesse still didn’t react.  “You could end up in jail too.”

“It’s okay really,” Jesse spoke calmly, his back facing the television.

“I have nothing to lose,” Walt looked up at him, his eyes intense with self-pity and concern.

“Neither do I Mr. White.”

Mr. White?

He had been calling him Walt up til then.

Again that day Jesse disappeared during one of his outings. Walt would wait for him twiddling his thumbs, not much was on and what was were things he had already seen.  He was never one for watching television anyway.  Earlier he had wondered if it would be out of line to give Jesse a list of books he wanted to read, that maybe he could look around the used book stores and find them and bring them to him but it felt like he was asking for too much.  He deserved this, he deserved to live in absolute silence.  

Then again silence did always bring on the sad thoughts.  Sometimes bits of Heisenberg would resurface as he laid on his mattress, Jesse’s blankets always overflowing onto his bed.  That possessive side would come back as he thought of Jesse walking around outside, he was looking better, even the scars he had added to his bad boy streak.  From the few outings Walt had, he had seen the beautiful girls, they must have been looking at Jesse and Jesse back at them. What could he do really? Jesse was young and attractive and so were they, he couldn’t just simply rewrite biology. It was the way things worked whether he wanted them to or not.  But by now he was beyond jealousy, he just found himself wanting Jesse to come back. 

“I brought dinner,” announced the young man awakening Walt from his sleep. Walt sat up, wrapped up in Jesse’s yellow blankets.  Jesse took notice and dropped his head to attempt to hide the smile on his lips. 

“I’m not all that hungry, sorry,” Walt stood up and dug into the bag, rearranging the fried chicken and the sides to satisfy the OCD side of him.  This was just Walt showing he cared, Jesse accepted this and stood to side until Walt was happy with the way things were organized.  “How’s that,” he announced happily gesturing to the perfectly prepared meal on the spongebob styrofoam plate. 

“You need to shave,” Jesse smiled playfully and pat his beard, rubbing his thumb against his cheek when he probably shouldn’t have. It was a habit the two of them were slipping into.

Touching….

Just touching just to relieve the pain a bit, to feel a little less alone.  It wasn’t the way it used to be, reassuring pats on the shoulder, their hands begin to linger, began to stroke, even if it was just for a split second. A first it was weird but it was oddly comforting, almost like a ritual.

Walt’s eyes shut closed, leaning into small gesture, his heart lighting up like it hadn’t for a long time.  This was what he was waiting for, these moments that to anyone else would have been taken for granted. 

Blinking slowly, Jesse found himself engrossed by Walt’s reaction, it was the same thing each time but he still admired it liberally. The lines on Walt’s face looked a little less deep even for a second, his eye lashes that much longer, his face still very much handsome even with the shadow of death cast on him.  With that last thought, Jesse blushed and looked down at his food. 

“Not even a drumstick,” he suggested when he sat down, Walt just barely settling into the chair across from him. 

“No I’m alright, I already ate so much.”

He hadn’t and Jesse knew a fib because Walt was always so full of them.

Walt grew fixated on a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter, “What’s that,” he pointed.

“That. Oh it’s nothing.”

Not long after Walt fell back asleep, snoring loudly.  By then Jesse was already used to it, any actual annoyance was left behind him after the days they would spend together in the RV.

Slowly he got up off the couch and flicked off the television.  Making his way over to the paper bag he pulled out a book from a stack of several other ones.  He cracked it open to the first page and sighed after reading the title of the first chapter.  He got comfortable on the couch again giving Walt once last look, then he buried his face in the book.

The sun was out when Walt woke up, he sat up groggily and ran his hands through his hair, attempting to fix any embarrassing cowlicks.  Jesse was on the old torn up couch, one leg flung over the arm of the chair and the other dangling in the middle.  Much to Walt’s surprise there was a book on his lap, he fought with the urge to intrude, the cover was face down.  Curiosity got the best of him so he carefully got it out of Jesse’s hands to look at the title. 

_Coping with Grief of a Loved One with Terminal Cancer_

How straight to the point that title was.  Walt’s mouth dropped open and he looked down to see Jesse groaning, his eyes barely opening.  “Shit—Mr White.” He saw the book in his hands and immediately made a grab for it.  “D—Don’t look at that,” his eye puffed up with tears. 

“I already did,” Walt dropped his shoulders, his gaze full of sorrow that they finally reached this inevitable discussion. 

“I’m not saying that you are—“

“I am dying Jesse. It’s a fact. I know it. You know it,” he returned to sit on his bed and Jesse followed after him.  “I was trying to…pretend—“

“You really didn’t have to,” Jesse held his hands together looking guilty for giving a shit when he had every reason not to. “Are you in pain or anything?”

“Yes and no,” Walt turned to face him and shrugged. 

“I can get you pills if you want.”

“Oh n-no no no. I don’t want you getting involved with those sorts of people, it’s too much of a risk. You might return to y-you know… _using_.”

“I got a book on that too,” laughed the younger man, his blue eyes looking dimmer than Walt had remembered them.  It wasn’t funny but Walt still laughed as if it were just procedure.

It was debatable who kissed who first but there was no doubt that they were both kissing each other, it just sort of happened.  Jesse held Walt’s face in his hands as Walt shifted his weight to lean over him. Neither could really bother to think of the horrible morning breath they both had but in the long run it didn’t seem to matter.  Kissing softly Jesse found himself falling backwards onto the bed with Walt hovering over him on his elbows.  His hands slid under Walt’s loose grey sweatshirt, tracing along the lines of his ribcage.  He was so thin, Jesse couldn’t help to notice but he still pushed on, ultimately returning the hem and tugging on it until Walt allowed him to pull it over his head.  Returning the favor Walt took Jesse’s baggy white t shirt off with ease, content to see the skin underneath. 

“I-ah…I might not be able to perform,” Walt awkwardly said as he pushed his chest up against the younger man’s.

“I don’t care,” Jesse’s eyes were bright and he grinned mischievously, somewhat calming Walt’s anxiety. “I’m just happy you’re here. Anyway I can help, like—you don’t know til you try, you know?”

“My body’s been betraying me in ways you don’t even know,” Walt oozed with negativity but Jesse was having no patience for it.  He took initiative and guided him to sit up, and after planting a few kisses on his exposed collar bone, he began to pull down Walt’s sweatpants.  Experimentally his hand grasped at Walt’s bulge through his underwear, it was already feeling a little swollen.  Letting out a long groan, Walt was cut off by a kiss deeper than the rest.  Jesse sighed against him and looked downwards, as he exposed Walt even more. 

“’Atta boy,” he cooed as he worked his hand up and down, “It looks like it’s working for me.”

Rolling his eyes, with his cheeks flushed, Walt looked away as bashful as a teenage boy.  Holding onto his partner’s shoulders, he buried his head in the nook of his neck, inhaling and groaning against him as he gently rocked with the movements, his rough beard rubbing up against the soft flesh.  Jesse shivered with glee.

“You ready.”

“For what?”

“I’m going to that as a yes,” Jesse cocked an eyebrow and sauntered lower until he took him full into his mouth.  It was so sweet and so sudden that Walt’s head lulled back. 

When they had finished Walt laid on his back as Jesse watched him fondly, his pupils still dilated from the orgasm they both shared together.   Walt grabbed Jesse by the hair playfully, causing him to laugh and bury himself in his armpit, his blue eyes barely peeking over. 

“What are you doing there, I haven’t even showered,” laughed Walt twirling his finger in the light brown locks, a sensation he never thought he’d feel ever again. These days he was either numb or had heightened senses, no in between.  Those blue eyes blinked quickly then grew sad again, something clearly on Jesse’s mind.   

Before he could speak out loud Walt interrupted those thoughts with his own. He stared at the off color beige ceiling, cobwebs forming at the corners, paint chipping, mold growing where rain had once leaked through.  “You really need to leave here.”

“You serious?”

“Don’t waste your youth on me, I’ve done more than enough damage.”

Jesse sat up, a grave look on his face. On the one hand Walt wanted for Jesse to hate him, to despise him and make him suffer what he did and on the other he wished for forgiveness and unconditional love. It was incorrigible to expect he could forget it all, that they could start fresh, he didn’t deserve that. 

“Don’t bring that shit up!”

“What about Alaska?”

“You always say that,” Jesse choked back on his tears and covered his mouth, his hand trembling.  “Always with fucking Alaska.”

“I’m only concerned with your happiness. You can start a family, you’re so damn young. The rest of your life is ahead of you, go find a trade that suits you…makes you content.”

“You said something like that then too…in the desert. You were lying then.”

“No I wasn’t,” Walt responded truthfully. “I was trying to let you go, to get you out of trouble.”

“T-then I found out about B-Brock,” rubbing his hands together, Jesse grew overwhelmed with all the events he had tried to forget, “Then about Jane…and what about Mike, you kill him after all.”

Walt grew silent and shifted in the bed, his gaze burning a hole through Jesse’s heart when he caught sight of it through his periphery.

“It happened suddenly, it was a fluke, a mistake. I don’t know what overcame me.”

Suddenly Jesse grew still and sat up straight, his eyes wide and fixed on the one small window that lit up the room. He didn’t know what he had expected but his mind raced and tried to rationalize things.  Hearing it admitted to out and the open just made it seem more real, Mike wasn’t coming back… _ever._

“He end up in a barrel,” Jesse’s lower lip quivered as he tasted the salt of his tears.

Walt could see it in his head, Jesse almost walking in on it as he and Todd scrambled to not be caught.  What would have Jesse done then if he had seen? He bit his lip trying to hold back all the emotions, he promised he was more man than this, that he would accept the punishment with dignity and strength instead of cowering like he was.

“Yes.”

He was met with silence. Jesse wanted to mention Andrea too but her death still hadn’t sunk in, it still felt like some awful dream, some out of body experience.

“You’re not the same man are you? The one who would do those t-things?”

“No,” the older man dropped his head, his voice nothing but a soft breath. 

“Good,” said Jesse sternly.  Pulling on his t shirt and a discarded pair of pants, he disappeared into the bathroom.  Walt watched him in disbelief at the direction their conversation went in, his bones ached, his muscles didn’t stretch the way they used to, he couldn’t imagine chasing after him. There was nothing else to say. 

From that point on everything stayed the same, the routine never broke but that one thing that Walt loved the most was lost.  Jesse didn’t express concern, he didn’t touch him, he didn’t even talk to him, no spare words were reserved for him. 

They didn’t exactly indulge in heavy conversation back in the day but those few sentences they used to say mattered. The _are you oks_ , the awkward small talk, the eye contact.  Jesse didn’t buy fast food anymore, he must have been eating out alone and just leaving Walt with cans of soup and maybe if he was lucky the Chunky brand of soups.  Then again Walt wasn’t very hungry those days, he’d fast occasionally eating a peanut butter sandwich every now and then. 

Whenever the young man would get home he’d just stare straight, his eyes full of hurt, like a cold breeze overtook him.  He walked rigidly, he even had a hard time taking off his leather jacket and the shower would eventually turn on. Walt found himself standing in corners, watching him apologetically hoping one day he’d be reached out to but still nothing. Jesse looked like he lost all will to live, like a husk walking around doing things because it was programmed to, because it was accustomed to it.  Where he was going to and coming from, Walt never knew, he had his theories but all he could think was that there was a girl or he’d get lost in town, possibly both. Despite his suspicions, he was glad he wasn’t using, he didn’t look like he was at least.

At the end of the day the light was flicked off, Jesse tossed Walt some clean pajamas, this time ones that would fit his shrinking frame. 

“Thanks Jesse,” Walt coughed out and wiped his mouth, his breaths growing more shallow. Saying thank you was become easier and easier for him but they were starting to sound more like desperate apologies.  For a second Jesse looked in his direction but Walt couldn’t see his expression in the dark, though he was glad to be acknowledged for once.  It was too much to fantasize as he undressed, fully aware Jesse was still there. If It were just weeks earlier he’d think of Jesse wrapping his arms around his form, holding him close, surprising him as he stood there half naked.  That dream was long gone, but it was his own fault and he accepted that, too much hurt had been done. 

That one time back at the rest stop, Walt couldn’t stop dreaming about it. Jesse whimpering, the look of complete helplessness on his face, Walt’s mind just couldn’t let go of the image of feeling like he was in a cage unable to somehow make it all better. He wanted to reach out to him and hold him, stroking his hair, kissing him like he was allowed to that one moment. He’d never forget, he’d never let himself forget.    

The warm sun hit his skin, he didn’t notice how pale he was getting or how his flesh hung off of his bones.  With a slight hunch he walked around in plain sight, dragging his flip flops as he approached the long blue ocean.  Deciding to stop at the brick barrier before reaching the beach, he stared out into the flocks and flocks of people laying around practically in their underwear. He forgot what it was like to be young, or how young people should act, people Jesse’s age.  They hung out in crowds listening to electronic-like music, Walt wasn’t sure what to make of it or how to describe it but it was noisy and inconsistent.  Startling him out of his thought he heard the sound of something being dragged on the ground, like wheels, he turned to see three young girls on rollerblades, smiles on their faces. 

In the distance something caught his eye.  A police officer pacing around a snow cone stand, waiting for his order.  Walt winced and then sat on a bench with his hands at his knees. He rubbed them nervously contemplating whether he could get caught, whether or not he’d want to be caught.  The sun was shining bright, sweat was dripping down his face so he pulled off the pull over hoodie Jesse had lent to him. Turning his head slightly he watched the cop through his peripheries, for a second he thought of all the weight on his shoulders and what the world had planned out for him. Death was it. That’s it. He was reaching it faster than anyone else and he was glad, such a sort amount of time before it was over, laying on his back watching everything get cold and fade to black. Being locked up in a cell with no one sounded much better than watching Jesse suffer from his presence, he was just dead weight.  Composing himself he stood up and walked towards the cop, his limbs more stiff with each step.  The cop appeared to be distracted, finally receiving the snow cone.  He thanked the person and looked startled to see Walt in his way. 

Walt was prepared to turn himself in, his mouth opened but nothing came out.  The cop furrowed his brow and sighed, offering Walt his change. “I’m not supposed to but here, go buy yourself a coffee or something man, you look dead.”

Counting the change in his hand he realized there wasn’t enough to buy himself a coffee even if he wanted to.

53 cents.

The price of his cowardice. 

Curled up in bed, he started to loathe the moment Jesse would get home.  This time the young man sat at the table with his hands on his eyes, his shoe tapping.  Walt breathed in the agony, his eyes all cried out, no doubt Jesse was probably the same. They were prisoners to one another, staying around because they had nowhere else to go.

Again those whimpers echoed in his dreams, but it was interrupted when Walt was sent into a coughing fit.  He shot up trying desperately to hold onto his breath and wheezed until he was back to normal, tears at the corner of his eyes.  His head felt light and his heart beat rapidly as he attempted to get a grasp of himself. Then he realized the snivels continued, they weren’t coming from within his head, there was an actual source of it, it was Jesse. His small shoulders were turned away from him, he curled up into a smaller ball hoping he wouldn’t be found out.

“You cry every night,” Walt asked, his hand gripping at Jesse’s bedding when he wished he had the strength to rub his back instead. “I think I figured out why I dream the same thing every night. I dream about you.”

He didn’t finish his thought.

_I’m in love with you. I’m very much in love with you._

Jesse said nothing, he cleared his throat and laid on his stomach trying to muffle himself.  “I’m st-stronger than this.”

“I think the world of you Jesse,” Walt licked his lips and tasted the inevitable iron on his flesh.  “It’s not wrong, you’re strong enough…you _are_ …to put up with all of this, to put up with me. You’re a su-such a fucking saint in every sense of the word.”

The coughing fits that night didn’t let up. Eventually Walt found himself laying down on the cool tile of the bathroom, his head throbbing with pressure and pain.  The door swung open suddenly, Jesse was calling out to him, his sweet face twisted into devastation when he found him. 

“Mr. White god damn it,” he cursed, pulling him to sit up with all the strength he had.  Walt waved him off and fell back onto the floor, Jesse erupting into an explosion of expletives at the older man’s pride. 

“I’m alright,” muttered Walt, his hands trying to hold Jesse’s face.  “I like your haircut,” he rubbed his hand over his soft dirty blonde hair, his fingers finding refuge in the familiar spiked hairstyle he used to have.  Jesse took a hold of his hands and brought them to his lips, shutting his eyes closed.

“I just got it today, if you weren’t so busy l-looking away or hiding in the f-fucking dark.”

“No I saw it, I just never said…”

“Well you should have said. You should have said something.”

“I—“

“Just shut up.”

Walt watched him warmly, his eyes twinkling despite being bloodshot.  “Make up your mind then,” his voice reverberated through Jesse’s eardrums like sandpaper.  Jesse dropped his shoulders and smiled, then kissed the older man’s frail thin hands. 

“I fucking hate you, Mr. White. I hate you so much.”

“Not surprising in the least, Jesse.”

“Just please…pl-please don’t die …not until I’m over this. Not until I can look into your face and not want to smash it in. “

“I can try,” Walt smiled, Jesse kissed his palm then rested his hands back on the floor.  “Just tell me one thing.”

“Yeah,” the younger man wiped a tear and looked away, his cheeks flushed from crying. 

“Where do you disappear to everyday?”

“I work.”

“Really, where? Is it cause of a girl?”

“No you idiot. There is no girl.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Walt’s finger traced along Jesse’s jaw with a childlike curiosity, watching him flinch slightly then gradually grow comfortable with the contact, closing his eyes letting Walt just soak him in. 

“I work at a book store, it’s not far from here. Ah—it’s—it’s alright.”

“That’s funny cause I kept on wanting to give you a list of books for you to find me and you worked at a book store all along. Huh?”

“Y-yeah. Stupid. Give me that list later.”

“So no girl? There’s plenty of pretty girls.”

“Yeah well…” Jesse tilted his head sideways as Walt’s thumb rubbed across his lower lip.  “I’ve seen them.” He opened his eyes, his long lashes fluttering.  “So you aren’t dying any time soon then,” he stretched his neck back and let out a sigh after speaking.

“I said I’d try.”

“Ok,” Jesse shut his eyes, feeling a chill overcome him.  He wiped the blood off of Walt’s mouth with his sleeve and hunched over to kiss him softly, Walt lifted his neck enough to kiss him back. 

“I love you,” Walt mouthed, not finding enough breath in him but Jesse understood.  “Sorry,” continued Walt, this time actually saying the apology out loud. 

“Its okay,” still Jesse didn’t have the strength to look straight at him. He fidgeted and then rubbed his head.  “Me too. Love you. Yeah. More than the hate part, I think. A lot more.”

Feeling blood rush to his cheeks, Walt chuckled, and then coughed.  “An old man like me, a living corpse?”

“You haven’t tried to eat my brains yet, so—“

This time Walt forced himself to get up, despite his body telling him he couldn’t, and brought his lips to Jesse’s again, running his hands through his hair.  Jesse held onto his wrist leaning into the kiss, tasting blood and salt, a million different emotions coursing through his veins. 

“The cans of soup, the pile is growing,” Jesse spoke, his eyes half open and hazy.  “You gotta eat something, just do it for me.”

Jesse didn’t want to leave Walt’s bedside after that night.  Walt barely got up to go anywhere beyond the bathroom or the sofa to watch the television, Jesse keeping a watchful eye on him.  Finally after a couple of days Walt managed to convince him to go back to work at least to get his mind off of things. Reluctantly Jesse did but the entire time he was there he was distracted, scared that he’d come home to Walt dead. 

The fear that lingered every time he’d turn the knob of the front door sent goosebumps down his body.  The image was burned into his head, his worst nightmare.  Walt would always be asleep which made it all the more worst.  To avoid waking him from his slumber Jesse would put his hand underneath his nose to be sure if he breathed, luckily each time he did this, he felt the tickle of his breath brush against him.  He let out a sigh of relief.

Finally Walt was upgraded to sleeping in Jesse’s bed.  Sometimes Jesse slept alone, other times they slept together, it depended on whether Walt wanted to get out of the couch or not. 

“Is it me or is it hot,” questioned Walt, an even more slimmer version of the man Jesse remembered from long ago.

“Yeah it is,” Jesse responded softly, taking off his shirt and kicking the blankets off the bed they shared.  “Let me help you.”

He helped Walt take off his own shirt, which he allowed with a small smile on his lips.  “Oh I wish we could.”

“Could what,” questioned the younger man.

“You know,” Walt grew bashful and lifted his eyebrows, looking out the window as the breeze blew in.  He raised his arm and placed it over his forehead as Jesse watched him with wide eyes. “You look so—“

“Tired?”

“No, let me finish.”

“Yo I need to sleep so hurry it up,” he responded with a smile, half expecting what he thought Walt was about to say but was blindsided by what he said instead.

“The day they say your name on the news you’ll pack up those bags and leave.”

“What? M-Mr White,” Jesse looked confused, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Promise me Jesse.”

“What?”

“Promise me.”

Jesse was silent for a while before he nodded against Walt as he rested his head in the crook of his neck.  “Yeah ok.”

“Well I was going to say you look so handsome, something out of those magazines.”

“What?  Dirty ones,” laughed the younger man.

“Those,” Walt giggled, “and those ones with the models except you’re too small, much too small. The men on those are much taller aren’t they?”

“I don’t know Mr. White.”

“Well I like you just the way you are.”

“An imbecile? Isn’t that your pet name for me?”

“No you’re bright, brighter than any sun I’ve seen,” Walt started to fade off into sleep, his eyes drooping.  Jesse chuckled into his ear, kissing it softly as he messed with Walt’s reddish brown hair. He adored how it always stood up at the ends looking like a constant bedhead, he found himself spending hours upon hours playing with it as Walt would sleep. 

“You’re not bad looking yourself old man,” smiled Jesse, Walt smiled and let out a contented sigh. 

In the morning Walt was at the couch as usual, the television on.  Jesse went straight for the bathroom and took a shower, when he got back out he found the remote on the floor, the batteries scattered everywhere.  “You clumsy bastard,” Jesse grumbled, as he held onto his towel but then decided to let go of it playfully.  “Might as well give you a show while I’m down here,” he laughed as he put the remote together.  No chuckle came out of Walt, Jesse turned around fear very much present in his face. 

He looked like he was peacefully slumbering, his head fallen to the side, his lips slightly parted.  Jesse’s eyes traveled along all the wrinkles, along the facial hair that’d tickle his cheek when they’d lay together, along the lips that’d kiss him eagerly time and time again, then to the closed eyes that used to watch him so fondly.  “Mr. White,” he choked out.  Jesse’s hand shook as he stood up and reached out, reached further until it was underneath his nose.

Nothing.

No breath, no breath at all.

His eyes welled up into tears as he frantically placed his hands on his chest hoping to feel the thump of the heartbeat that always grew rapid with his every touch.

Nothing.

Just cold. 

“Today a new man has been pinpointed in connection to Walter White, the man known as the meth kingpin, Heisenberg. Jesse Pinkman, here was a former student of the suspect and some have reported may have been an associate to White. “

The newswoman went on but everything else was a blur. They said a number, they had a picture of his mug shot from when he had gotten arrested with Wendy. Jesse watched the television in surprise at this course of events.

_“Perfect moment? For what? To drop dead? Are you saying you want to die?”_

_“I'm saying that I lived too long. You want them to actually miss you.”_

Oh Jesse missed him already, he really did but he didn’t wait long, he didn’t watch him for long.  He embraced his body and whispered into his ear.

“I loved you Mr. White,” he choked on his tears, still hoping somehow he’d come back to life, or maybe he could still hear him.  “I forgive you. I forgave you.”

Jesse kept his word, he got dressed, got packed and he left. He left for Alaska and he never looked back. 


End file.
